


An Ode to Water

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drabble, Epistolary, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-01
Updated: 2003-04-01
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: A love letter from Spock to Kirk. Do you think it's over the top for a Vulcan? Well, are they in love or not?





	An Ode to Water

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Note:  
> Thanks to: my beta and all-around K/S cheerleader, Farfalla

Teardrops cling to your lashes, and sweat beads on your back. Spit glistens on your tongue, gliding in viscous drops to pool in your jaw. There is vapor in your breath and steam rises from your back. From your loins waters issue forth--salty and ammonial, or juicy, bitter globs.

You sweat, you breathe, you spit, you piss--you are a veritable fountain, a hydreous god, clothed in fog and chilly dew. You quicken my viscera and knock at my bones. How polished and dry I was before I met you; climate-controlled, sealed, safe against the elements, preserved. How stiffly I sat, lining up my vertebrae like an anatomical model. A perfect, textbook example--I. Neat, and unmoved, like a polished stone set in a case. How now I yearn for touch. Touch me, o god. Soak me, make me wet and messy. Soil my pressed and proper garments, make me cry with need. I stick out my raspy tongue and lick at your moisture. I profane myself before you. Destroy that self, that idol, that image of me and build me up again in your liquid dreams. I wish to move as you move, see as you see. Hold me closely and then push me away--I will circle back to you, for we both know this set.

Feed me, nourish me and give me life--my love, my lover. You make me greedy and I want all of you and cannot digest you fast enough. You lie there, sprawled and careless. Let me worship you, and if my devotion drains you, send me away and I shall long for you . . .

Do not doubt that I love you, as ever, yours--

Spock


End file.
